Only Human
by Please.Insert.Name
Summary: Aaron Hotchner has always been in control, after Hailey's death this is no exception. Slowly however the team see he is crumbling, but can they get him to admit that he needs help and, more importantly, will it affect their next case?
1. Chapter 1

_"Whenever someone sorrows, I do not say, "forget it," or "it will pass," or "it could be worse" - all of which deny the integrity of the painful experience. But I say, to the contrary, "It is worse than you may allow yourself to think. Delve into the depth. Stay with the feeling. Think of it as a precious source of knowledge and guidance. Then and only then will you be ready to face it and be transformed in the process."_  
_~Peter Koestenbaum_

* * *

Aaron Hotchner looked up from his paperwork, staring impassively at the man in front of him.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his voice steady.

"I said you need to take time off, the team are worried about you, hell even I'm worried about you" replied Rossi, closing the office door softly as he entered the room.

"I'm fine" said Aaron, returning to his work. Rossi hadn't moved though, in fact he was walking closer. He knew the man was concerned about him but really he was fine. Feeling a hand on his shoulder he automatically tensed up.

"That's what I mean. Every time someone tries to comfort you, you pull away. When others are in need you are always there for them but shrug off help yourself. Think about it, Haley wouldn't want you working like this, Jack needs you and you need to realise that soon" Rossi finished before walking out of the office.

Staring down at his work, Aaron sighed heavily. Why couldn't his team see that he was okay, it unnerved him to have them badgering them constantly, if they kept it up their performance would decline and people would be at risk. However he could do nothing about it, there is only so many times you can say your fine. Running his fingers wearily through his hair he got back to work.

* * *

David Rossi walked back down to the bullpen slowly. He had known Aaron for a long time, he had been his mentor when the man first joined the BAU. Even back then Aaron Hotchner had hid his emotions well, his days as a prosecutor helping him create the emotionless mask he so loved to wear. Although since he had came back he had noticed that Aaron had seemed more worn down, he was aware the departure of Gideon had hit him hard, suddenly all the responsibility had shifted to him with no one to help share the work load. He handled it well however but Rossi wasn't the only one that noticed Aaron spent more time in the BAU than any of them. After Haley's death they had been even more concerned about him, the man had literally thrown himself into his work, leaving the office well after the others had already gone.

He knew better than anyone that Aaron was going to crack soon. The way he had looked at him, Rossi could see how shaky his composure was and if there was one thing that everyone knew about the man it was that he was good at controlling himself. However, trying so hard to convince yourself your fine when you aren't isn't healthy. Rossi had first hand experience at this as, when his first marriage failed and he had done the same thing - despite his reputation he cared a lot about the women in his life. He had seen the warning signs but the man hid it well, sighing again he saw Reid look at him, concern flashing in the young agent's eyes.

"Is he okay?" asked Reid, his eyes flicking up to Aaron's office to convey who he meant, even without the hint Rossi knew immediately.

"He is still insisting he's fine" confessed Rossi.

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Morgan, standing up from his desk, his in-tray only containing a few more sheets.

"We can be there for him when he realises he isn't" said Rossi firmly.

"When do you think that will be?" asked Prentiss.

"Soon" came the reply as Rossi headed back up to his office, praying that his friend saw sense soon.

* * *

Derek Morgan was by no means weak, in fact he had seen things that would have cracked many people. However seeing his boss suffer the way he was, was killing him. He just wanted to grab Hotch and shake him to try and knock some sense into him. However he wasn't a moron, he knew that Hotch would just brush it off. He had heard his wife die over the phone three weeks ago and still the man was trying to act normal. He knew that Hotch saw them all as his children in some weird work family sense and they all looked up to him. He had guessed that Hotch felt that if he allowed himself to crumble in front of them it would damage the team. He was in control all the time and if he lost it like that in front of them it would hurt him to think that they would see him as weak and undermine his leadersip qualities. He had always supported them but he refused to see that in this case it was for the best, it was unnatural for the man to let go and he would fight hard but it was time that they supported him.

Looking over at the young man he considered to be the brother he never had, he saw that Reid felt the same way, his brown eyes taking on a far away look that meant he was thinking about something incredibly hard. Moving back to his desk, he picked up the last of his paperwork and proceeded to fill it in so they could finally leave. However, he couldn't help himself glancing occasionally up at Hotch's office, the worry never ebbing away.

* * *

Spencer Reid looked up at Hotch's office, it was almost nine o'clock and still the man was working. He had finished his load a an hour ago but Morgan wanted to go to the pub after work and he had been roped into joining him. Wondering if Hotch would want to join them, Spencer stood up, ignoring Morgan's questioning gaze, and walked up the stairs to Hotch's office. Rapping his knuckles on the wood, he heard the familiar "Come in" and entered.

"What is it Reid?" asked Hotch, his voice sounding tired and was only emphasised by his slumped posture. As Spencer looked at him he felt saddened by the weariness he saw in the man's eyes, he wasn't even sure if Hotch was aware of it. Quickly, however, the weariness dissapeared only to be replaced by the infuriating impassiveness and he straightened up ever so slightly. Spencer couldn't decide if this was an improvement or not.

"Morgan and I are going out for a drink once he finishes up, do you want to join us?" Okay it never really came out like that, he sounded nervous and when that happened the only people who could really understand him were in that very building, but when he looked back on it he prefered to ignore this slight blemish.

"No thanks, I think I might be here a while" declined Hotch, indicating the stacks of paper and files.

"We could wait" offered Spencer, hope shining in his eyes.

"I wouldn't want to keep you, go ahead and enjoy yourselves I'll see you tomorrow" Hotch's tone was firm but gentle and Spencer knew there was no chance of getting the stoic man to join them. Acknowledging defeat he trudged down the stairs, the normal spring in his step dimminished slightly as the realisation dawned on him.

Rossi was right.

To Spencer, Hotch was more than a mentor, when Gideon had left he had became his sort of father figure and children more often than not overlook their parent's weaknesses. It is like the day when you turn around and realise that your mum is old, not the immortal being you once thought of, simply choosing to ignore the grey hairs that only grow more abundant each time you see her. However even he could not deny it now he had seen the evidence so clearly. Aaron Hotchner was a time bomb and, as Spencer left the BAU for the night, he could almost hear the clock tick as he got closer and closer to his breakdown.

* * *

_A/N: I only started watching Criminal Minds two weeks ago and I must say I'm hooked. I've had the idea for this fanfic for a few days now and it was interferring with my other fics so I've just decided to write it. I hope my characterisation is alright, I haven't actually seen many with Rossi and there is only so much research I can do about the characters without actually seeing the episodes. Anyway next chapter is the start of the case and I hope your enjoying it thus far despite my probably errors :)_

_Also I know this chapter is rather short - I normally try and average 2000 words per chapter - but there is only so much I can put in each chapter so I hope it is okay, the other chapters will probably be between 1500-2000_

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter._

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds, but I wish I owned Hotch, in fact, forget it, he's mine :D.  
_

_Please Review!_


	2. Chapter 2

Grabbing some coffee, Aaron took a gulp, grimacing a little as the hot beverage burned his tongue. Feeling slightly more alert he walked into his office and, placing the mug on the table, opened the blinds to survey the bullpen. Absent was the normal cheer that the occupants normally held, instead they were more tense, the atmosphere was thick with worry. He knew it only got like this when they had a case but it had never been this bad. Sure enough he found the file on his desk. Flipping it open he scanned the contents. Apparently there was an unsub killing men and women in Gullston, Alabama. The killings appeared to be erratic, the method however was always the same and each victim had been found with a broken neck however before this there was evidence of extreme torture. Initially the Gullston police department thought they were unconnected but more and more were cropping up now and the matter could no longer be ignored.

Hotch winced as he looked at one of the photos. The man had burns all over his body, it was as if someone had just placed him in a oven and left it on high. The burns however wasn't what made the normally stoic man wince, it was the look of sheer agony on his face, immortalised through death. He had seen that look many times and it always managed to shake him to his core.

Putting the photos away he sipped his coffee, swirling the dregs around creating a small storm in the mug. Swallowing the rest of the drink, he pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching as his breath misted it up, slowly obstructing his view.

"Aaron?" Rossi's voice floated across the room.

"Yes?"

"We're waiting for you in the conference room" Aaron heard the door close softly after that remark. Rossi thought he needed to be alone, what could he do to convince them that he was fine, he was sick of them tiptoeing around him as if he might suddenly break down! Breathing heavily he snatched the folder from his desk and stalked out of his office, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

"The unsub has killed six people so far, Antony Rogers, Amelia Stone, Deborah Hastings, Brian McNulty, Amanda Biers and Millicent Hope," lectured JJ as each image of the victim appeared on the screen. They all have died resulting from a broken neck, however, each victim has undergone different treatments prior to death. At each crime scene there was a note left behind, presumably by the unsub" JJ stopped talking and everyone turned to look at the screen. There in jagged handwriting was the words:

_"From your Angel"_

"Could it be a religious message?" asked Prentice.

"But the killings have no religious connotations, each body was found in pairs, naked and wrapped in tarpaulin in seemingly random locations" answered Rossi.

"Has forensics been able to get anything?" asked Aaron.

"No, the bodies have apparently been washed before they had been dumped and their fingernails had been clipped. The crime scenes themselves are immaculate, nothing is out of place" replied JJ.

"So we are looking for someone who is incredibly cautious, they know the tests that forensics would have run and were able to destroy all the evidence" surmised Aaron.

"Obesessive-Compulsive-Disorder?" asked Morgan.

"It would make sense, but to this extent it is unlikely that it would have gone unnoticed" said Prentice.

"It is possible, however highly unlikely, for an OCD sufferer to refrain from acting out, perhaps this unsub bottles it all away and releases it on the crime scene" suggested Reid.

"If that is the case they would have to have a strong level of control, it can take years for an OCD sufferer to be able to control their urges and even then it isn't for an extended period of time" said Morgan.

"The bodies have been found just days apart but are becoming more frequent. The first victims were Antony Rogers and Brian McNulty, both had second degree burns. The second were Amelia Stone and Deborah Hastings, both had their eyes burned. The third Amanda Biers and Millicent Hope, had their left and right hands severed respectively and their wrists were sewn together" read out JJ, her face contorting in disgust.

"He's accelerating" stated Aaron grimly.

"Hmm the word angel is personified. This could indicate that he means an individual not an angel in the religious sense" said Reid, staring intently at the screen.

"We'll come up with a profile after we land in Gullston, for now get ready, we take of in two hours" said Aaron, watching as everyone left, something about this case unerved him. He had a feeling that something was waiting for him in Alabama, setting everything up to watch him fall. Quelling the rising doubt, Aaron gathered up his files and followed his colleagues.

* * *

The journey was relatively uneventful: Reid and Emily were playing snack poker with Morgan, JJ was napping and Rossi was staring at him. The man made no effort to hide his facination with the Unit Chief, his warm brown eyes filled with amusement but he could see the worry beneath the façade. Aaron knew that Rossi was trying to analyse his behaviour, figure out what was apparently wrong with him. However there was a reason there was no inter-team profiling, profiling required some level of detachment and, in a team so close to each other, it was hard not to be swayed by personal attachment thereby rendering the whole analysis useless. Mentally rolling his eyes, the he leaned back in his seat and tried to get some sleep, with a case like this it was unlikely he would get much when they landed.

_He was in a building, looking around he recognised it to be his house. Sobbing emanated from upstairs. Panic flared up in his chest and he found himself running, his shoes making clumping sounds on the stairs. _

_This wasn't right._

_Barrelling through the bedroom door, Aaron looked around the room wildly, his eyes darting from object to object trying to locate the source of the crying. A chill seemed to sweep through him, infiltrating his system and flooding him with undiluted terror. His heart beat faster and for one deranged moment he though his ribs might crack as his breathing quickened. His control was evaporating, leaving him like he had left her. His restless eyes landed on the figure standing next to the bed. She was pale and translucent but he knew who she was nonetheless. _

_"Haley" he croaked, reaching out to her, his hand trembling._

_"Why didn't you save me Aaron? I needed you and you weren't there!" her voice breaking slightly as she suppressed her sobs, the tears running unheeded down her cheeks. _

_"I, I'm sorry" Aaron managed, swiftly moving across the room to her. She was even more translucent here, the light from the window shining right through her, making her seemed unearthly. Aaron felt a trickle of uneasiness but ignoring it, he reached out once more, placing his hands on her shoulders. However, instead of the warm flesh he was expecting, his hands clutched thin air. _

_She screamed._

Jerking awake, Aaron looked around him, composing himself quickly. Rubbing his eyes, he fished a book out of his hand luggage and tried to focus on it, the ghostly image of Haley dancing at the edge of his vision, never truly leaving him.

* * *

Rossi never missed the flash of terror in Aaron's eyes when they snapped open. He had been watching as the man slept, seen thin sheen of sweat that had developed in the Unit Chief's brow and how he seemed to grip the arm rest tighter and tighter until his knuckles turned white. To many, these wouldn't be very significant but to Rossi they were incredibly important.

They meant that Aaron Hotchner's control was slipping.

Apart from that though there had been no signs that their leader's sleep had been anything but peaceful, however he was still concerned. He knew that there was only so much time left before Aaron realised he needed help, he just hoped it never happened during this case. If Aaron were to lose control like that when hunting the unsub all hell would break loose. The team looked to him for guidance and although they were perfectly capable in their jobs they did need someone to co-ordinate them. If Aaron was out of the equation then they would be effectively like a ship without a rudder, able to reach the destination but only after straying off course umpteen times.

Aaron had calmed down now, to someone who wasn't watching him as intently as Rossi had, they wouldn't have noticed the telltale signs. He was aware of the team watching his and Aaron's staring match but he couldn't bring himself to care. With Aaron you had to be direct, if you hinted and gently prodded the topic you would get no where, you had to go for the all out blitz attack. He knew the Unit Chief was uncomfortable, his eyes were trained on his book and he turned the pages occasionally but, if you looked closely enough, you could see a slightly glazed expression in his eyes. He was dwelling on something and Rossi wouldn't be much of a profiler if he never knew it was his dream. Whatever Aaron's subconscious had dug up it had been enough to create a glitch in the façade and no matter how small, it was still progress but in this case couldn't have happened at the worst time. Turning his attention to the window, Rossi hoped that he could keep himself together long enough to catch this unsub and make it back home, there they could help Aaron but it was now that they needed their leader.

* * *

_A/N: Here we have it Chapter 2! Thank you for the feedback so far *huggle* Again I apologise if they are out of character, if that is the case then tips would be appreciated :) As for Gullston, it doesn't exist. I don't know enough about America to give an adequate description of one of the major cities and so making up my own seemed the best option. Oh and the OCD thing, it is possible to suppress it but only for a few minutes, I've extended that to a few days so I hope it is okay, I confess I am not knowledgeable in that field - I prefer studying conditions like psychopathy etc.  
_

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter._

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds._

_Please Review!_


	3. Chapter 3

Landing in Gullston, Aaron's first impression wasn't very high. From the air he could see the large, gray tower blocks, fighting amongst each other for dominance in the sky and that, coupled with the heavy clouds, set a depressing atmosphere about the whole city. Already he was envisioning streets clustered with cars, their horns blaring, drowning out the crowds of people moving as one down the dingy streets, illuminated by flickering streetlamps. Sighing, he put his book back in his bag, he couldn't even remember it's title let alone what he had read. His mind had been too full of images of her and it was only now he was managing to suppress them.

He was fine.

He told himself that over and over again, rolling the words around in his mind and slowly regained his confidence. He had heard that if you told yourself something over and over again your mind would eventually believe it. It was only logical that this would apply here: he would act as if the dream hadn't bothered him and therefore believe it never.

The Gullston police department were there already, and putting his luggage in the trunk, Aaron climbed into the black SUV followed by Rossi and JJ - Reid, Prentiss and Morgan took the other one. The drive to the station was enough to tell Aaron that his impression of the city was not unfounded. Gangs littered the streets and he lost count of the number of boarded up windows. It had just gone past twelve o'clock in the afternoon and already he could see people acting up. However soon it was like they had crossed a barrier of some sort. Slowly the houses started to become less dilapidated and the streets became cleaner. Gone were the clusters of people and what replaced them were couples walking their dogs, or people bustling to the shops, their clothes displaying wealth that the other side only dreamed of.

The divide was clear and already Aaron was wondering what side their unsub belonged. Making a mental note to check out the victims place of residence they pulled into the station that stood at the junction of two streets. The building was made with sand coloured bricks, the dark mortar accentuating the paleness of the stone all the more. The area looked clean, the only exception being a paper bag being blown over the pavement, rustling slightly as it went by them. Opposite the building was a park, the luscious trees providing a nice escape from the horrors those inside saw or read about on a daily basis. It was peaceful, despite the sounds of the cars passing by and shoppers moving past them intent on where they were going. Some would look at them, taking in the dark cars and general appearance, their eyes slightly narrowed as they tried to figure out why the FBI would be in their city.

Ignoring this they entered the building through the revolving door, passing the reception desk they followed the officers through to CID. As soon as they entered the room everything seemed to stop. The officers looked up at them, pausing for a moment with what they were doing to take in their appearance before slowly getting back to work. Aaron smiled slightly at this seeing that they took their work seriously. A board on one of the walls held pictures that Aaron recognised from the briefing. Moving towards the office marked Chief of Police, Aaron knocked before being granted admittance. The office was tidy, there was a filing cabinet in the corner situated next to a bookcase that looked fit to burst. A desk was in front of the window, allowing a view of the park if the occupant looked behind him. Certificates coated the walls but not in an obscene fashion, more to show appreciation for them and then move on. It was not the office that of a vain man, it was the office of someone who was there to solve cases and not in some fruitless quest for glory like some of the other Police Chiefs Aaron had met in the past.

"Ah you must be the FBI agents, I'm the Chief of Police Edward Monroe" said the man sitting behind the desk. His chestnut coloured hair was trimmed short, emphasising his brown eyes and tanned complexion. Monroe's smile was friendly but his posture indicated defensiveness. Aaron wasn't perturbed however, this was his territory and the Police Chief was only making that clear.

"I am Agent Aaron Hotchner and this is Agent Emily Prentiss, Agent Jennifer Jareau, Agent Derek Morgan, Agent David Rossi and Doctor Spencer Reid" replied Aaron indicating his team.

Shaking hands with the man, Aaron sat down in the seat opposite, dismissing his team while he discussed business.

"Now I must have you know I ain't happy bout havin' the FBI here but after seeing what that sick bastard's done I do know its for the best. You'll have no resistance from me but I ask that you respect my authority, you may be in charge of the case but these are my men" said Monroe once the others had left.

"I understand. We'll need to examine the evidence and crime scenes to create an accurate profile. Any background on the victims would also be appreciated. Do you have anywhere where we could set up?" asked Aaron.

"Yes, there's a disused office next to mine you can have that. I can get my deputy to take some of yours to the crime scenes but I can tell you now there ain't much there. I've had Officer Michaels look into their history but from what we've seen there aren't any links, maybe you can come up with something" shrugged Monroe.

"Thank you, we'll try and have something as soon as possible" said Aaron standing up. Monroe stood also and both men walked out of the office.

Aaron suppressed a smile, his team were already at work: Reid was analysing the photos of the victims, his eyes shining in a way that told Aaron he was thinking particularly hard about something whilst Prentiss and JJ were talking to an officer and Morgan was looking over the case notes.

"This here is my deputy Charlie Wilson, he can take some of your agents to the crime scenes" said Monroe, gesturing to the blonde haired blue eyed officer JJ and Prentiss were talking to.

"Morgan, Prentiss, I need you to go and see the crime scenes, Reid and Rossi I want you to look over the case notes see if you can come up with anything else. JJ find out what the media already knows and work with it to compile a press release" ordered Aaron.

"What are you going to do Hotch?" asked Morgan, putting the file down.

"I'm going to go down to the morgue to see if there is anything the pathologist can tell me" replied Aaron grimly.

"Hardy take Agent Hotchner to the morgue" ordered Monroe, looking towards a fresh faced young man with short blonde hair, his face seemed to light up at the prospect of helping the FBI agents.

"Actually do you mind if I go with you? There's a few things I need to check out" asked Reid, his eyes never leaving the board.

Nodding, Aaron watched as everyone got to work, Wilson was leading Morgan and Prentiss out to a squad car. His attention focused mainly on Prentiss and Aaron made a mental note to keep an eye on him. Rossi meanwhile gave him a knowing look as an officer handed him some files before Monroe led him into the disused office to give him some privacy.

"You ready?" he asked Reid.

"Yes" replied Reid, his face a little pale at the prospect of going into the morgue. No one liked the place and it was beyond his understanding how someone could spend the whole day in it. Hardy led them past the reception desk to the stairwell. It might have been his imagination but as they descended it seemed to get colder, there certainly was a chill in the air and Aaron felt goosebumps form on his arms.

"I'll be outside if you need me" said Hardy, holding the door open for them. The room was pristine, three metal slabs lined one wall, Aaron could see that two contained bodies except one was covered with a white sheet. One wall was devoted to drawers with tags hanging on the handles and Aaron saw Reid shudder a little when he saw the exposed body, large stitches made their way up it's chest before breaking of into two lines to it's shoulders forming a large 'Y'. The pathologist was scrubbing her hands in a nearby hand basin, the only sound in the room was the slick rub of soap as she lathered up and rinsed. Approaching her, Aaron heard his footsteps echo off the white tiles alerting her to their presence.

"Hello, I am Agent Hotchner and this is Doctor Reid, we are with the FBI" said Aaron when it became apparent that she wasn't going to say anything.

"I wondered when I would be seeing you, I'm Doctor Samantha Winters" she said, ripping a paper towel from the dispenser and drying her hands thoroughly.

"I was wondering if I could see the last two victims" said Reid.

"Well your in luck, I've just finished" she said calmly as her assistant - a young man with brown hair - covered up the last body.

"I just need to see their faces" said Reid, approaching the slabs. The assistant pulled back both sheets to the victims shoulders and Aaron watched as Reid looked closely at each body.

"Doctor Winters was there anything during the autopsy that you noticed was unusual about the bodies?" asked Aaron, wondering what Reid was up to.

"There wasn't anything abnormal, everyone was in perfect health. However the stitches on Millicent Hope and Amanda Biers could not have been done by a rookie. The veins of both women were stitched together as well as the skin and that is some intricate work, my guess is that the unsub has done that before or has one heck of a talent for surgery" answered Winters, throwing the used towel in the bin.

"So you believe the unsub could be a surgeon or at least in the medical profession" surmised Aaron.

"It would make sense, how else could he or she have gotten the materials necessary to do this" muttered Reid, still looking at the corpses.

"At least that narrows it down, Reid do you need anything else?" asked Aaron.

"Yes, would it be possible to see the other bodies?" asked the younger agent.

"Of course, Andrew show Doctor Reid the others" said Winters. Andrew, who had been sweeping the floor, took Reid over to the drawers leaving Aaron alone with Winters.

"What hospitals are there in this city?"

"There is Richmond Memorial Hospital at St Vincent Place and the Western General Hospital at Carbrae Court, only Richmond takes on interns however, the Western is more a private practise orientated."

"Why do you say that? Do you think our unsub is a surgical intern?" asked Aaron, the pathologist was beginning to annoy him, making him jump through hoops to get the answer instead of telling him outright.

"The stitches, although intricate were not done by a fully qualified surgeon, or at least a good fully qualified surgeon. In some areas the stitches are loose, as if the unsub wasn't focusing absolutely on what they were doing or hadn't done something like that before. However toxicology reported that there was no abnormalities in the victims blood work and so this could easily be explained by the lack of anaesthetic. Judging from the post mortem bruising it looks like the victims were bound but that wouldn't stop them from moving entirely so the loose stitches could be a result of that" explained Winters.

"It's a start at least, Reid are you finished?" asked Aaron, smiling slightly at the pathologist hoping to convey his thanks, however judging by the look on her face he was less than successful.

"Yes" came Reid, walking back over to them as Andrew put the bodies back in the drawers.

"Thank you for your time, if you can think of anything else please call us" finished Aaron before he and Reid walked out. Closing the door behind them, they followed the officer back up the stairs.

"What is it?" asked Aaron, his voice steady whilst inwardly he was burning with curiosity on what the young genius had discovered.

"Well all the pairs of victims had similar features, if you were to just glance at them you could easily mistake them for twins..." said Reid, his voice far away as if he was still deep in thought. Aaron knew better than to talk to Reid when he got like this and left it there, wrapping his suit jacket tighter round him as the chill lapped at him, never truly leaving him.

* * *

_He watched her walk along the street, her long legs carrying her quickly through the crowd. She was perfect, exactly what he had been looking for. Putting the key in the ignition he heard the engine roar into life. Soon she would be added to his collection..._

* * *

_A/N:Thank you for the feedback, I wasn't expecting people to like this! Again if my characterisation is awful I apologise and please bear with me, I haven't seem many episodes and the only ones they are showing on tv are mainly series one and two - seriously considering buying the DVD's! Oh and I am from Scotland and so my knowledge of the American legal system is severely lacking, if there are any mistakes please notify me :) _

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes._

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own Criminal Minds *sigh*_

_Please review!  
_


	4. Chapter 4

"Find anything?" asked Aaron, entering the office with Reid following closely behind.

"Nope, nothing that we don't already know. The victims seem to be erratic, there is no link between them that I can see. Judging from their backgrounds they would never have met each other, at least under ordinary circumstances," sighed Rossi, closing a file and placing it on the pile, "What about you?"

"The pathologist thinks its a surgeons apprentice, the stitching on the wrists was professional but aspects of it weren't consistent with a professional surgeon. Out of the two hospitals only Richmond Memorial takes on interns so that narrows it down considerably" reported Aaron, sitting down and pulling out his phone and putting it on loudspeaker.

_"Hello, how may the goddess of all things marvellous help you today?"_ came Garcia's voice.

"Garcia, I need you to check all the surgical interns at Richmond Memorial Hospital" ordered Aaron.

_"Sure thing Boss Man,"_ came the chirpy reply_, _then the sound of typing was heard,_ "Okaay we have a Malcolm Donnelly, Jason Green, Fiona Harcourt, Damien Johnson and Francis Howard."_

"Good work Garcia, find out as much as you can about these people and send it to me."

_"Anything for our fearless leader"_ purred Garcia before giggling slightly and hanging up.

Rolling his eyes, Aaron looked over to Reid, the young man still hadn't said anything and he was beginning to worry. Looking over the case files he could see that Rossi was right. The killings seemed to be erratic, but he couldn't help but wonder what Reid had meant by them looking like twins. Normally the young genius explained a little more, unleashing a flood of words that took them all a few minutes to sift though until they got to the crux of the matter. Hoping that he could maybe spot another clue, he focused on the files, sighing as page after page divulged nothing.

"Hotch?" Reid's voice broke the silence that had descended on the scene.

"Yes" replied Aaron, looking up from the case notes. His eyes were burning slightly and he felt as if he had read the same line over and over again.

"I think there is a link between them" said Reid.

"How?" asked Rossi, rubbing his eyes.

"Well they all look the same as the one they were found with: Millicent Hope and Amanda Biers both had brown hair and brown eyes, they were both around five foot four with slim builds. Brian McNulty and Antony Rogers both had black hair and blue eyes and again around the same build and height. The same applies again for Amelia Stone and Deborah Hastings" said Reid excitably.

"I know, you mentioned something about twins on the stairwell" said Aaron, casting his mind back to their conversation.

"That's exactly it! Hope and Biers had their wrists stitched together, McNulty and Rogers suffered second degree burns and Stone and Hastings had their eyes burned!"

"What about it?" asked Rossi, smiling a little a Reid's enthusiasm.

"Its consistent with experiments conducted in World War Two. One scientist at Auschwitz, Josef Mengele, was especially interested in twins. He would conduct experiments on them which involved burns, testing eye colour with chemicals and trying to create Siamese twins. Those in the camps called him the Angel of Death which could also be the origin of the notes."

"You mean this unsub is obsessed with a Nazi scientist?" asked Aaron frowning.

"Yes! After the experiments he would dissect them, the unsub hasn't done this so far but each murder is getting more and more violent so it is possible he is leading up to it. He can't get that many twins without leading to suspicion so those who have incredibly similar features would have to do."

"If he were in the medical profession it would explain how he got the equipment" agreed Rossi.

"That also corroborates with their obsessive compulsive disorder. Surgeons work in a sterile environment so it would be easier to control their urges around them. They wouldn't see anything wrong with him/her washing their hands thoroughly" said Aaron.

"The signs would still be there though, maybe they took longer scrubbing up than the others, its worth asking the surgical resident if they noticed anything."

"How would he develop this level of fascination with Mengele? If I remember right it was the Russians that freed Auschwitz and none of the interns had Slavic names and so there is no personal connection" asked Rossi.

"Maybe they were subjected to the stories as a child, perhaps on documentaries or through a relative who was enthusiastic about the war. Children are very impressionable so it is possible for him to have became fascinated with his work, the fact that they possibly became a surgeon could have been influenced by this" replied Aaron.

"Hey guys, any developments?" asked Morgan, entering the room with Prentiss coming behind him.

"Yeah quite a bit. We think our unsub is obsessed with Josef Mengele, a Nazi scientist who conducted experiments on twins at Auschwitz. All the victims share a resemblance to the one they were found with so we have the twins, and Mengele was called the Angel of Death which explains the note. The injuries that he victims sustained mirrored the experiments done at the camps. Due to the nature of the injuries and the stitches on Hope and Biers indicates a surgical intern. Garcia is running background checks on all the surgical interns at Richmond Memorial Hospital to try and narrow it down" answered Aaron shortly.

"Anything at the crime scenes?" asked Rossi.

"Zilch," answered Prentiss, "The unsub was meticulous in cleaning up, all the sites are out of the way, mainly abandoned lots which shows he/she doesn't feel any remorse for the kills. That's about all we could glean though apart from the OCD.

"Maybe we could run a check on missing persons that look alike, it's been a few days since the last kill and so they have to have taken someone recently" suggested Reid.

"Good idea Reid" said Aaron, pulling out his phone again.

_"Welcome to the temple of technological mysteries, what can we do for you this afternoon"_ said Garcia.

"Garcia, can you look into the missing persons record for Gullston over the past three days and send me pictures of those with similar facial structures?" asked Aaron.

_"I'll have that for you in two shakes of a lamb's tail"_ said Garcia happily, _"Okay sending through now."_

"Thanks Garcia" said Aaron, seeing the images pop up on the screen.

_"No problemo, please leave all offerings at the temple door, chocolate is preferable"_ said Garcia before hanging up.

Chuckling, Aaron looked at his laptop. It appeared there were only two women that had disappeared in the last three days. He felt his laugh die on his lips as he saw the first picture. Smiling at him, the face frozen in time was the mirror image of Hailey. Her hair was the exact same shade of blonde, the blue eyes twinkling with joy, the source long since forgotten. It took his breath away, made his heart beat frantically in his chest as he gripped the table tighter.

"Aaron what's wrong?" asked Rossi, seeing his friend's anxiety and numbly Aaron was aware the man moving over to him.

"Shit" cursed Rossi as he saw the image, the expletive slipping between clenched teeth.

"What is it?" asked Morgan, concern dancing in his eyes.

"Nothing" said Aaron stiffly, trying to rein in his emotions. Feeling a hand on his shoulder he jumped slightly, before looking up and seeing Rossi. His friend knew exactly what was going on inside his mind, but Aaron would be damned if he validated his suspicions. Breathing deeply he felt his heart rate return to normal and stood up.

"I'm going to update Monroe on our progress, see what else you can come up with" he said before leaving the room.

* * *

Rossi could have screamed when he saw that image on Aaron's laptop. She never even looked much like Hailey, sure the hair and eye colour were the same but this woman's jaw was rounder, and she had faint bags under her eyes. However, to Aaron he knew that the slightest resemblence would have been like a slap in the face. He had seen the way he had held onto the table, trying to ground himself as he processed it. Turning to the team he noticed that they too looked concerned.

"Will he be okay?" asked Prentiss, voicing everyone's thought.

"I hope so," said Rossi, glancing at the door, "the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get home."

With that the team got to work, but it was clear from the way the checked their watches or peered through the blinds that none of them were really thinking about the case.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for the feedback. I know that this chapter is short but it was mainly dialogue - if not all! - and I hope you enjoyed it. If you have any questions feel free to PM me :)_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds *sigh*_

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter._

_Please Review!_


	5. Chapter 5

Splashing water on his face, Aaron looked up at his reflection. His eyes roamed over his features. His jet black hair was greying a little around the temples, he could also see little wrinkles forming at the corner of his eyes matching the look of utter weariness that adorned his face. Running his hands over his chin he felt the bristles of hair that he had yet to shave off, sighing a little as he did so. Since when had he gotten so old? How had this happened? He knew he always acted mature and older than his years but it had never reflected in his appearance until now. Normally there had to be some sort of stressor to affect someone so much and there wasn't any that he could think off.

_'Yes there is'_ came a voice echoing in the back of his mind.

"No there isn't" he hissed, clenching the hand basin tightly. When had he dropped so low that his own mind went against him? Growling in frustration he ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and dried his face and hands. Scrunching up the towel he threw it into the bin savagely before looking back into the mirror. His charcoal coloured eyes were filled with anger, anger he had no right to vent on others. He was meant to protect them, not throw all his anger at them when it was really himself he was angry at.

He was fine.

How hollow the words seemed now, empty, devoid of the truth. Looking at his shaking hands he finally admitted to himself that he was not okay. He was far from okay. He still saw her eyes staring at him from the screen, frozen yet so full of hope. Hope for a future that this bastard could cut short. It was unacceptable. His hands curled into fists, his self-loathing replaced with rage. Rage at the sick person who was capable of such a thing. Logically he knew this was unhealthy. He was merely channelling it into another outlet and this case just happened to be it. However he was not thinking logically, all logic had been burned away as soon as his mind went down the path that was the missing women.

He wanted to find this unsub and he wanted to find him/her quickly damn the consequences.

Monroe had been impressed with how much they had managed to uncover and promised to send out officers to Richmond with a few members of his team. Now he wanted to go there, if there was going to be any developments he would be there when they happened, or at least not far behind. He owed it to her and he wouldn't be able to rest until she was recovered, her ocean blue eyes haunting him every time he tried to find an iota of peace. Firm in his resolve, he turned away from the mirror and left the bathroom.

* * *

Rossi was concerned. They had finished working the victimology and could come up with no other ways to join the victims together apart from the physical resemblance. Monroe had told them that he would send some officers with a few of them to the hospital to question the surgical resident but first they needed to give out the profile, something they were reluctant to do without their leader. Prentiss and Reid had went out to get a late lunch and Morgan was trying to find a vending machine. JJ was still working on the media report but Rossi had decided to stay behind, confident that Aaron would have to return sometime, if anything his pride wouldn't let him hide forever.

Glancing back at the picture of Danielle Rogers, Rossi sighed, reaching over for his mug of coffee. Sipping the lukewarm brew, he pulled up the other photo of Gabriel Hastings. Both women had last been seen in public areas - Danielle at Halston Street, a popular area for shoppers and Gabriel in her local supermarket - however it appeared that both women hadn't made it home. Danielle was from a middle class family, her husband Peter had reported her missing when she hadn't came home after he had returned from work, but Gabriel was an unemployed single mother apparently living in one of the rough neighbourhoods so she had only been reported missing two days ago, a day after Danielle had been thereby providing no connection other than the resemblence. The unsub was working fast but it was apparent that they never cared if they were caught. Their blatant disregard for the victims showed that they hadn't looked much into their personal lives, if they had then they would have felt some sort of emotional tie and none was indicated either at the crime scenes or on the bodies. Judging from the other bodies and missing persons reports they had only a couple of days to find the unsub before the women were killed.

Rossi gulped, thinking about what they would be feeling right now, strapped down, vulnerable to that sick son of a bitch and being used for his twisted experiments. Rossi had dealt with hero worship before but this was beyond anything he had ever seen. He had read up on some of the experiments conducted at Auschwitz and they were horrifying, only his years on the field had stopped him from losing his breakfast. Sometimes even the most seasoned profiler could still be shocked by what humans were capable of doing to each other.

Hearing the door open, his head snapped round as he took in the sight of Aaron. His stoic mask was still in place but Rossi saw by the slight tremble in Aaron's hand that it had taken some time to put back on.

"Where is everyone?" asked Aaron, his voice perfectly steady. Too steady.

"Prentiss and Reid went for lunch, Morgan is currently on a quest for a vending machine and JJ is working with Monroe on what to tell the media" answered Rossi, draining the rest of his coffee before looking sharply at Aaron, "Are you okay?"

"Yes" replied Aaron, glancing at some case notes, before looking Rossi directly in the eye. Rossi knew better than to take this as a sign of truthfulness. Everyone knew that to tell a convincing lie you had to look the questioner in the eye and maintain a steady gaze, if Aaron's eyes wavered for even a moment it would be a slip up the man couldn't afford. Unfortunately for Rossi, Aaron had perfected this technique in his days as a prosecutor and trying to stare him down was like trying to stare down a man with no eyelids. However unfortunately for Aaron, Rossi, contrary to what his numerous ex-wives said, had the patience of a saint. The silence grew thick, all the unsaid words floating in the air between them creating a soundproof barrier better than any physicist could develop.

The door opened and Morgan entered with a Twix in hand. The silence shattered, falling down around them like shards of glass, piercing the tense atmosphere that had formed between the two men. Unfreezing they looked back down at there work, not believing for one moment that they could hide what had just transpired from Morgan. However if there was something the agent knew it was when it was best not to interfere and Rossi was confident he would say nothing on the matter. Sure enough, Morgan just sat down next to Rossi, munching on his Twix as if he had seen nothing.

Reid and Prentiss came back next, bringing with them coffee from Starbucks, a nice relief from the coffee they had been drinking all morning.

"Are we ready to give the profile?" asked Aaron, breaking the comfortable silence that had descended on the room - nothing like it had been before. Everybody nodded so he continued, "Right after the profile has been distributed Monroe said that a couple of us can go to the hospital to see the surgical resident. Reid, Morgan I want you to join me. Prentiss, Rossi you scope out the areas the women were last seen in, I want to know how they were taken in such a public setting. Is that clear?"

A chorus of yes's went around the room and Rossi watched as Aaron went to tell Monroe to assemble his men. Prentiss and Reid soon followed him leaving Morgan alone with Rossi.

"What was going on earlier?" asked Morgan, asking the question that Rossi knew had been straining to break free from his lips.

"Keep and eye on Hotch, I don't want him getting too involved in this case but he knows I'm on to him."

"Well you've hardly been subtle" interjected Morgan, smiling half heartedly.

"True," conceded Rossi, "But sometimes direct is better, Hotch is afraid in case I break through and so is using evasive techniques. We can't let him bury this but that is exactly what he's trying to do."

"What do you want me to do then?"

"Watch him, his reactions to everything in case there is anything out of the ordinary."

"You think he's emotionally compromised?" guessed Morgan.

"At this stage I'm not quite sure, if he is this could be dangerous."

Nodding, Morgan left, leaving Rossi to tidy up. He felt bad at not being honest with the younger agent but if Strauss found out that Aaron was emotionally compromised then all hell would break loose. He would have to keep a closer eye on him but could do nothing if Aaron pushed him away, if he protested being separated from him then he'd have to give a reason and a bad part of working with profilers was that they would know when he was lying. No, he'd have to rely on Morgan to be his eyes and ears and, with that decided, he left the office and went to find the others.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for the feedback. Its strange, I had only invisioned this being about five or so chapters and now its looking like its going to be quite a few more as I keep going off on tangents! Oh well I hope you continue to enjoy it!_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds._

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter._

_Please review!_


	6. Chapter 6

"We are most likely looking for a man between twenty and forty. He suffers from antisocial personality disorder and obsessive compulsive disorder. The translation being he doesn't care what he does to these women and he knows how to clean up after himself" started Morgan, leaning on one of the numerous desks as he surveyed the sea of police officers, some taking notes and others nodding, agreeing to what had been said.

"He will likely be in the medical career. This will make him harder to spot as the public trust people in those career paths and therefore will be blind to any abnormality in his behaviour" interjected Prentiss.

"His victims all bear a resemblance to the one they are found with. We believe this is because he is obsessed with Josef Mengele, a Nazi scientist who conducted experiments with results similar to the unsubs victims wounds on twins at Auschwitz" said Reid hurriedly.

"Due to this he may suffer from delusions, believing Mengele's experiments to be of some scientific value. Maybe to prove himself to disdainful colleagues. The fact that he restrains his victims shows that he likes power and in order to get his release he needs to feel like he is in control, something that he won't feel at work" continued Rossi.

"Finally he is meticulous. He knows exactly what he's doing, it is an addiction to him and he'll keep killing until he is satisfied he has proved himself. Send this profile out to the public, research all prior offenders that have a medical background, if you find anything notify us immediately" finished Hotch.

Monroe dismissed his men and Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't an idiot. He knew that Hotch would be emotionally compromised, hell if he wasn't then as far as Morgan was concerned he wasn't human. The slight widening of Rossi's eyes had been enough to tell him that he had guessed right. However he understood why Rossi had wanted to try and hide it from him. If Strauss found out then Hotch would be a goner. The she-devil had just been looking for an excuse to get rid of him and Morgan would be damned if he gave her one.

Making their way back into the disused office, Morgan sat down at the table, leaning back nonchalantly as he surveyed Hotch from the corner of his eye. The Unit Chief looked tired but deep in his eyes Morgan detected a hint of anger and... was that hope? Looking again he was definitely sure there was hope in those black orbs. This wasn't good, in fact it was worse than he had thought. If Hotch was this invested into the case then in his eyes they would have to solve it in time to save the women. If/when they tracked down the unsub Hotch would insist on taking him down.

And after that would come the realisation.

The realisation that she wasn't Hailey. That his ex-wife was still dead. That he was still alone. And if they never saved them then… well then it was anyone's guess. Hotch would either accept it and move on or, more likely, crumble like he should have done when his ex-wife had initially died. He would lose the battle he had been conducting since he had heard those shots over the phone. Although in one hand maybe losing it was a good thing, ever since he had known the man he had always been remarkably uptight, the worrying prospect was that it could happen in the field. It could endanger the women's lives and if that happened Hotch would never forgive himself. Even worse they could do nothing but watch and hope that they caught him in time, as if they asked him to sit out he would refuse and they couldn't go any higher up without informing Strauss.

Looking over at Rossi, their eyes met and Morgan could already see that the older profiler had realised this. Glancing at his other colleagues he wondered if they had reached the same conclusion. Prentiss was chewing her lip a little as she did when she was nervous, Reid was babbling to the poor deputy who looked as if he wanted to grab his gun and off himself, and JJ was looking between Hotch and Rossi, wondering why there was an undercurrent of tension to their seemingly light discussion.

"Everyone knows what they have to do, there can be no mistakes on this one, we need to bring these women home" said Hotch, entering pep talk mode. Underneath that however Morgan could see the same rage and hope he saw earlier, flowing through the crack in the man's normally all encompassing armour.

* * *

Aaron saw Morgan looking at him, no doubt Rossi had put him up to it. Ignoring it, he sighed as Morgan drove them to the hospital and he was greeted once more by the bleak streets. It appeared Richmond was on the rougher side of the city and that only served to depress him further. Closing his eyes he leaned back into his seat, trying to relax his tense muscles. It was in vain of course, she would stop him, she would always stop him. He swore he saw her sometimes, perhaps drying the dishes or laughing at one of the rare jokes he made. He missed the way the sides of her eyes crinkled as she laughed, he could only compare the melodic sound to the singing of Arion, charming to all who listened and holding them under a spell. Sometimes at night he would wake up from a nightmare and reach out for her, only to find the bed empty and his hand clutch cold sheets.

Those nights weren't the worst though. Jessica had told him that Jack had been having nightmares, the few times he had been staying over Aaron had found it to be true. The idea that Jack was suffering tore at his insides, hardening his resolve to act as if nothing had happened. If he pretended then surely that would make Jack feel better, give the child some normalcy when his world had been turned on its side. It was in these moments that he could justify his behaviour, not recognise that he had merely been hiding from his own feelings, scared to confront them in case he never made it through the torrent. But these were only moments and outside those moments all he felt was hollow, still trying to hold off the onslaught of emotion that threatened to consume him. This case was helping, he had to admit. If he could save her maybe he could have a part of Hailey back? Maybe he wouldn't be so helpless? But 'maybe' wasn't 'definitely' and he wasn't sure if he could confront that just yet, it was more comfortable to stay in the protective cocoon that 'maybe' offered, even if it was only for a short time. Snapping open his eyes he saw that they were at the hospital, the sudden stillness of the SUV wrenching him from his thoughts.

Climbing out the agents approached the entrance. The building was grey and there were large cracks in the plaster, the darkness sucking the life out of the surrounding environment. Litter coated the street and Hotch could see more than one vandalised car. Side-stepping a stray dog, Aaron entered the building. Wincing a little he was hit by a wall of noise, the shrill ring of the telephones coupled with the chatter of patients and doctors alike being enough to make his temples throb. Steeling himself he walked towards the reception desk, the bored looking receptionist doing nothing to relieve the depressing atmosphere.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her eyes moving lazily up to meet his.

"Yes, we're with the FBI, we'd like to have a word with your surgical resident" said Aaron, trying not to smirk as her eyes immediately lit up, the boredom staved of for the day and the promise of a good story to tell her friends enough to make her more hospitable.

"Of course, I'll just call Doctor Fielding and tell him your coming" she said, her voice dripping with enough honey that was enough to make Aaron's skin crawl. This was made even worse when her eyes raked up and down his body in a way that even someone who wasn't a profiler could see was suggestive. It appeared that along with alleviating her boredom he had also managed to make her see him in a new light. Aaron bit back a groan and waited impatiently for her to call Doctor Fielding.

"He said you can just come up, he's just out of surgery so that's lucky," she all but purred, "Would you like me to show you the way?"

"No thank you, I'm sure we will manage" said Aaron stiffly. Moving over to the elevator, he scanned the floors, seeing that surgery was on the third. They entered the elevator and Aaron punched the correct button, feeling a slight jolt as they started moving.

"She was a vulture man" laughed Morgan, leaning against the mirror.

"Do you know that women mainly act like that because they are insecure. Deep down they feel the need to gain confidence through making themselves appealing to the opposite sex. In fact studies have been done-"

"That's enough Reid, the poor man is probably traumatised" said Morgan, a grin still playing about his lips.

Ignoring them Aaron exited the elevator and looked up at the signs, seeing that the Doctor Fielding's office was to the left. His shoes squeaked slightly on the floor as he followed the signs, eventually reaching a dark mahogany door with Doctor Fielding, Surgical Resident printed on it in fading gold letters. Knocking sharply he heard a weary "Come in" and entered, flanked by Morgan and Reid.

"My name is Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Morgan and Doctor Reid, we are with the Behavioural Analysis Unit of the FBI" said Aaron, taking the offered seat in front of Fielding's desk, Morgan and Reid opting for the couch next to the bookcase.

"Yes Cynthia told me to expect you. What appears to be the problem?" asked Fielding, his green eyes taking in the sight of the agents, and widening slightly when he saw the guns attached to their holsters.

"There have been a series of murders in this city and one of us makes us suspect the unknown suspect has surgical experience" said Aaron, wary about the reaction this would elicit.

"What makes you suspect surgical involvement?" asked Fielding, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"This" said Morgan, handing Fielding's the photo of the wrists. The surgeon recoiled slightly when he saw the image, but he soon overcame his shock and began to analyse it, his eyes roaming over the photo.

"You are correct, there would have to be some sort of training necessary to provide such a neat stitch. However I do not believe that a fully qualified surgeon would produce this kind of work, in some areas the stitches are loose which is something that is not acceptable for a practitioner" concluded Fielding, handing the photo back.

"That is what the pathologist said and this is why we are suspecting an intern" said Aaron carefully.

"You believe that I have trained someone to commit atrocities like this?" asked Fielding, his words laced with irritation.

"Not intentionally. We believe that he may have trouble interacting with others, maybe spends more time scrubbing up than others. He could be belittled by his peers, maybe has low self esteem and feels like he has to show how good he is" said Reid.

"Right well I'll look through my records but I don't think I've ever taught anyone like that" conceded Fielding, the irritation gone from his voice, replaced only by weariness.

"If you can think of anyone please get in touch with us, it is imperative that we catch this guy before he strikes again" pressed Aaron, before shaking Fielding's hand and leaving the office, Reid and Morgan not far behind.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for the feedback! Its encouraging that so many people are enjoying this :)_

_Arion was a character in Greek myths, google his name if you like that sort of thing, it is one of my favourite myths so I recommend it.  
_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds._

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes._

_Please Review!_


	7. Chapter 7

Closing the door of his hotel room Spencer sighed before making his way over to the bed. His bag was tucked down the side of it and numbly he unzipped it, pulling out the clothes he would need for tomorrow and laying them on the chair in the far end of the room. It wasn't by far the worse place he'd slept, that spot would forever be reserved to the shed he had to spend the night in when his mother wouldn't let him in the house under the delusion that he wasn't really her son. No, the bed was a little lumpy but that was all he could find to complain about as it was the only thing he used. The wardrobe was bare, Spencer preferred to keep everything packed up tight in case they had to leave quickly. It also helped him remain detached not giving the room a 'lived in' feel. Not becoming attached to the place helped him focus more, remain more objective and this was something that Gideon had drilled into his head since he had first been recruited for the FBI.

A lesson Hotch had obviously forgotten.

Spencer wasn't aware if Morgan had noticed but he too had been watching the Unit Chief all day. If there was one good thing about Spencer it was that he was noticed but not deemed interesting enough to keep noticing. The Aaron Hotchner he had seen today had been the exact same as the one he had known all his time at the BAU. The only difference was the slight glimpse of hope he had seen in the agent's eyes when they had finished giving the profile. Also he wasn't quite sure but Hotch had been saying they had to catch the unsub a lot, normally he just said it once and implied it the rest of the time, however today he had said it at least three times. It may not be a huge sign but it was still important. It indicated that Hotch was becoming more involved. He knew Morgan had noticed but he couldn't quite tell if Prentiss or JJ had. JJ had been with Monroe a lot creating the press release and so it wasn't likely the media liaison had noticed. Prentiss on the other hand he wasn't so sure about. It was often hard to tell what the raven haired woman was thinking, her ability to compartmentalise hindering his analysis. Rossi obviously knew, the staring contest on the plane had indicated it as well as a flashing neon sign. He knew Hotch said no inter-team profiling but it wasn't exactly something you could turn off on a whim and he was curious how the situation would be resolved. It wasn't his place to comfort Hotch so that duty would either fall to Rossi or Morgan - Spencer couldn't imagine Hotch letting himself lose it like that in front of the women, he had his pride to consider after all.

Changing into his pyjamas, Spencer brushed his teeth quickly before peeling back the bedcovers and clambering in. Shivering as the cold sheets clung to him he tried to distract himself, going through the body's reaction to change in external temperature. Sure enough his arm hairs were erect trying to create a thin layer of air around him to warm him up. Examining the veins in his arms he tried to ignore the small holes that hinted at his less than perfect past, instead focusing on the thin lines of blue noticing that the vasodilation was beginning to take affect. He soon began to warm up and sighed again, his mind moving away from the blissful distraction and back to present issues. He couldn't help but wonder how Hotch was coping. He knew outwardly he could make people believe his impassiveness was core deep but they hadn't worked with him on a daily basis, they hadn't seen his reactions to cases involving children. Rolling onto his side, Spencer's last thought before Sleep graced him with her presence was _'I hope this case ends soon.'_

* * *

Running a brush through her hair, Emily rubbed a make-up wipe over her face, removing the simple mascara and foundation she wore at work. Grabbing her toothbrush out of her toiletries bag she used the mini toothpaste the hotel had kindly provided. Brushing her teeth she rinsed her toothbrush before putting it back in her bag and padding back through to her room. Throwing her bag onto the chair in the corner, she pulled her hair back into a sloppy ponytail and climbed into bed.

Switching off the light she let herself get settled, feeling her muscles untense as she sank into the mattress. It felt like she had been on her feet for days and she guessed that had something to do with the added duties she had. She had by no means been officially designated these extra jobs but she felt obliged to do them. Emily had not known Hotch for as long as everyone else on the team had but that never meant she was any less loyal to him - the incident with Strauss had proved as much. All through the day she had noticed the rest of the team look at him worriedly, sometimes the emotion flickering across their face so quickly she wasn't even sure if she had really seen it. She knew he was suffering but she also knew that she couldn't really do anything about it. She couldn't imagine Hotch wanting to release his fears to a subordinate. From what Emily had gathered over her time at the BAU was that Hotch liked to be in control and he never liked showing weakness to those who looked up to him, afraid that they would lose their faith in him if they saw he was only human. From her analysis she could only see Hotch allowing Rossi in, the man, although he was lower in rank than him had more experience and so it would only be natural that Hotch would turn to him for guidance. Closing her eyes her last thought before she fell into oblivion was_ 'I wish I could do more.'_

* * *

JJ smiled, a lump in her throat when she heard Henry gurgle on the phone. The only words he could say were 'mama' and 'dada' but he was advancing quickly. Hearing him laugh she assumed Will was tickling him, her heart swelling in her chest at each giggle he elicited. Hearing the phone be manhandled for a moment she assumed Henry had kicked it and Will had picked it up.

"Hey, sorry he got a little carried away" came his Southern accent.

"I don't know why you're apologising, you're the one that has to deal with him" even though the words were spoken in jest it hurt JJ a little, longing to hold her baby and witness what Will was. Every time she went away she felt she was missing a little bit more of him, and she never wanted to be one of those mums that learnt about their child's upbringing through others.

Will groaned a little. "I cannot wait until you are home" he sighed.

"Me too, I miss you guys, who knows what kind of parties you're having without my watchful eye keeping you in line" said JJ trying to lift the melancholy mood that had nestled into the conversation.

"We miss you too" a little giggle on the end JJ assumed was Henry backing his father up.

"I'll try and be home as soon as I can. I need to go now honey but I'll call again as soon as I can" promised JJ.

"Sure thing darling. Love you and sweet dreams."

"Love you too" whispered JJ before being greeted with the sound of the dial tone.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, JJ wondered how Hotch managed it. Since Hailey's death he had Jack to bring up on his own and, although Jessica helped when she could it wouldn't lessen the guilt. Changing quickly she clambered into bed and switched out the light. She couldn't imagine what she would do if Will wasn't there, the very thought made her feel as if there was a gaping hole in her chest and she gasped slightly. If this was even one tenth of what Hotch was feeling she couldn't understand how he could cope.

And then the answer rammed right into her: He didn't.

She could see him slowly coming apart at the seams, unravelling like a worn bit of ribbon. She wasn't a profiler but she never needed to be to see this. She had worked with the man for years, she knew his habits and she knew when he was out of sorts. He was pretending nothing had happened, she would probably do the same if Will was taken from her. It would be the only thing that would keep her sane. Wrapping her arms around her she felt tears silently fall down her cheeks at the pain their Unit Chief must be feeling. When she eventually fell asleep her last thought was_ 'Why did it have to be him?'_

_

* * *

__A/N: Thank you for the feedback! I know this chapter is short but the next chapter will be more case orientated - I think! I felt I needed to give an account of what Emily and JJ were feeling. **I'm not confident at writing their characters so if there are any gaping mistakes please alert me!** Spencer's POV just seemed to fit - that could be because I'm re-watching Revelations tonight and I cannot wait! It was the first episode I watched and I had no idea what was happening - this should give you an idea of how far off I was: I thought Hotch was like Strauss O.o - but now I will *grin* ... okay I realise that seems a little bit random..._

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds but I do own Hotch... wait!... what?... dammit he's managed to escape!  
_

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes._

_Please Review!_


	8. Chapter 8

_He was walking along a corridor. Flickering lights paved the way and his shoes echoed on the cracked tiles. The walls were a murky green, almost marsh like, giving the corridor a more desolate feel, only enhanced by the rough wooden doors that appeared intermittently. It was quiet. Too quiet. Turning his head Aaron glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing as he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Heel met floor and he began his brisk walk again, however this time he heard an echo, footsteps out of time with his own. Spinning around Aaron gasped as he saw numbers of faceless people standing behind him. They were wispy, translucent looking beings, their clothing ragged, and clearly they hadn't been looked after properly. Steeling himself, Aaron turned his back on them and continued once more. Trying to ignore them, he kept his eyes focused ahead of him, but even he couldn't help the shiver that was making its way down his spine, spreading through his system and filing him with icy fear. It gripped him, wrapped its tendrils around him and dragged him into its murky depth, fully immersing him in the blind panic. Running now, he heard them speed up, not quite reaching him but not leaving him either. The corridor twisted and turned until he was greeted by another non-descript door. In desperation he pulled it open and rushed inside. Slamming it he leaned heavily against the frame, panting as he felt the adrenaline run through his system._

_"Aaron?" the soft voice had him looking wildly around the room, until he saw her. Hailey was standing by the window, her blue eyes roaming sadly over his dishevelled appearance._

_"H, Hailey?" his voice came out as a whisper but echoed across the room nonetheless. As soon as he had spoken the faceless people streamed in through the walls, rippling slightly as they re-materialised. Moving over to Hailey he saw that her features too were fading, sinking back into her flesh until she was like the rest. Then he realised it. _

_They were the ones he hadn't saved. The ones he hadn't reached in time. _

_They were swarming around him now, crushing the air out of his lungs and slowly suffocating him. Trying to fight them off he felt them pull him down, assimilating him as the darkness pressed down on his vision._

Gasping, Aaron flung his arm out, knocking the alarm off the nightstand. As it met the floor the shrill beeping filled the room bringing him steadily back to consciousness. Opening his eyes he blinked a little, trying to focus his vision and see anything beside dark blobs. Attempting to control his breathing, Aaron flicked on the bedside lamp, chasing away the demons and illuminating the room with a golden glow. The ghosts still haunted him in his mind however, picking at his brain and feeding on his fears.

He had failed them.

He couldn't even remember their faces for god sake! This wasn't how he was supposed to be! How could he just forget them! These were only some of the thoughts that raced around in his mind, carving a path of destruction and leaving nothing untouched. Danielle and Gabriel's faces appeared in his mind, smiling brightly, unaware of the horrors that they would soon be part of, unwilling participents in a play that only the unsub knew the lines to.

He wouldn't fail them.

Growling, he pulled himself out of the bed, shivering in the morning chill and dragging him back to his dream. No, he couldn't go there again. Checking the clock he saw it was just after six in the morning and, stifling a yawn, started to dress, shrouding himself in the normalcy of the mundane act. He had overslept or else he would have jumped in the shower first. Now he was half asleep with no promise of a rest. Great.

Making his way down to the dinning room, Aaron rubbed at his eyes, trying to rid them of the dull ache that was slowly building. Hearing chatter he saw the team had already assembled, and judging by the perkiness of the conversation they had coffee. This day just got a little better.

"Hey Hotch, how'd you sleep?" asked Morgan, stuffing a bagel into his mouth with as much grace as an ape.

"Not too badly," he lied, pouring himself a steaming mug of coffee, before placing the pot in Reid's protective hands.

"If you put any more sugar in there it'll solidify," warned Prentiss.

"Actually the ratio of coffee to sugar although unbalanced wouldn't be enough to result in a change of state," said Reid, stirring the sweetened concoction.

"How did you find that out?" asked Prentiss.

"I tried it when I was twelve in an experiment. In fact it was only flour that resulted in the thickening process taking place and that tasted foul," Reid scrunched up his nose.

"You mean you actually tried that!" asked JJ, yawning afterwards behind her mug of tea.

"You'd be surprised at the things kids do," interjected Aaron, "Even geniuses," he added seeing Reid opening his mouth to protest.

"What did you do?" asked Morgan, his eyes lighting up slightly.

"Not much really, I saved my mistakes for later on in life" chuckled Aaron.

"He did," backed up Rossi, grinning slightly into his orange juice.

"Like what?" demanded Prentiss, a smile playing about her lips.

"Well..." began Rossi.

"If you finish that sentence you're working victimology on the next three cases," threatened Aaron, knowing that this would in no way deter the older profiler.

"It's worth it. When Aaron first came into the BAU he was a fresh faced young officer and naturally we couldn't let this opportunity go by."

"What did you do?" asked Morgan.

"Gideon and myself pretended we were working a case but needed someone with SWAT training to clear a building for us."

"What they hadn't told me was that this building was empty, it had sixteen floors and I had to clear each one before I could leave. If that wasn't bad enough there was a letter on the top floor detailing plans for blowing up the building and I ran for it" continued Aaron.

"The next thing we saw was him diving out the building, right into a jogger," laughed Rossi.

"She almost pressed charges on me!" exclaimed Aaron, watching as his team fell apart before his eyes. He was glad for the banter, it made it easier to shake of the nightmare, leading his thoughts back to happier times. He was sure that Rossi had guessed and orchestrated this, that is if the covert glances were anything to go by.

The sound of his cell phone ringing destroyed the amicable banter and once more the atmosphere became professional.

"Hotchner," he answered, his voice serious, a stark contrast with the light tone that had laced it moments prior.

"Agent Hotchner?" he recognised the voice of Doctor Fielding, "I was looking through my files and I think I have a name for you."

"Yes?"

"Gavin Whitman, he was a pupil of mine but we had to let him go as his performance wasn't up to scratch."

"That would match the profile," _want for power, lack of control, needs to prove himself..._

"I hope this helps, I would hate to think my teaching paved the way for this monster," said Fielding sadly.

"Thank you Doctor, we'll have to run a background check. Rest assured if it is him he would have ended up this way with or without your involvement," said Aaron firmly, ending the call.

"What's up Hotch?" asked Morgan.

"We've just got a lead."

* * *

Heading out to the SUV's, Rossi saw that Morgan was already on the phone with Garcia, working a trace no doubt. The sooner they caught him the better but a part of him had reservations. Aaron's expression when they had been given the lead had startled him slightly. A determination burned in his eyes, unhealthy in its intensity and, for the first time, Rossi had to wonder how much of himself Aaron had invested in this case and, more importantly, would there be any of him left once it was over?

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for the feedback! I was tempted to continued this chapter and add more developments but the team's banter was too much fun to miss out and I never really wanted to detract from it. I think there are about another three or so chapter left of this fic but I've never been good at guessing these things._

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds._

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes._

_Please Review!_


	9. Chapter 9

"Garcia I want you to dig up everything you can on Gavin Whitman, I need this to be your top priority," said Aaron, trying to convey the urgency to the technical analyst. As per usual she picked up on it immediately.

_"Morgan already asked me to do a little research. Seems he went to Gilcress High, graduated almost top of the class, from there he studied medicine before specialising in surgery at Hayward College. He was taken on as an intern in his last year at Richmond and was under Doctor Stephen Fielding,"_ said Garcia, the sound of her fingers clacking on the keyboard filtering in from the background.

"Good work, now can you research his childhood? Whatever has caused him to act out in this manner would have to have occurred then," said Aaron, wondering why he hadn't realised Morgan had already contacted her.

_"Of course mon capitane,"_ came the perky reply.

Hanging up, Aaron walked back over to his team. They were once again in their make-shift conference room. Monroe was standing by the window, Prentiss, Morgan and JJ were on the couch whilst Reid was sitting at the desk chair scanning through all the personal info the PD had on Whitman and Rossi was… looking at him.

Trying to suppressed the urge to punch the man, Aaron sat down on the chair in front of the desk, crossing his legs and grabbing another copy of Whitman's info. He knew it was useless as Reid would finish before him, but he felt like he had to do something. Rossi instructed the team to do the same and the only sound in the office for the next twenty minutes was the occasional turning of pages and Reid running his finger down the paper. If it hadn't been for his years training Aaron would have jumped when his phone ran. The high pitched ring assaulting his eardrums. Putting it on loudspeaker he placed it on the desk.

"Garcia what do you have?"

_"Well sir. It appeared Whitman had a happy family life. His parents were both lawyers so money was never a problem. However they were out late a lot because of this," Aaron remembered his time as a prosecutor, sympathising with the parents slightly, "He was on his own a lot. According to the local newspaper he helped out at the community centre frequently, often visiting the World War Two veterans,"_ said Garcia quickly.

"Why them specifically?" asked Prentiss.

_"I'll have to get back to you on that. Cheery-bye," _said Garcia, hanging up.

"Right I'm going to go and talk to Fielding again. Rossi you come with me. Prentiss, Morgan, JJ and Reid I want you to analyse the data from the crime scenes and what you got on your visits to try and see how this guy operates. I expect a report when we get back," instructed Aaron before looking over at Rossi. The older profiler nodded and they made their way out of the room.

He knew that he was giving Rossi ample time to question him on his behaviour. The look in his eyes when he caught the older man staring at him was one of light amusement. However he too was a profiler and he could see that his friend was worried, the slight crinkle at the side of his eyes the only indication but, to a profiler, akin to a neon sign above his head.

Entering the SUV, Aaron started it up, taking comfort in the roar of the engine and the familiar feel of control that came with it. Relaxing slightly, he caught Rossi staring at him once more and internally groaned. Let the interrogation begin.

* * *

Rossi looked at Aaron. The younger man was tense, his posture stiff as he entered the vehicle. He knew that the Unit Chief was expecting a barrage of questions and was determined not to give him any. Staring at Aaron had unnerved him and now he was going to watch the consequences. Sitting in the passenger seat he saw Aaron gain a little bit more confidence when he gripped the steering wheel. It made sense in a twisted way. The SUV was one of the only things Aaron had full control off, and in a moment of crisis helped him re-assert his power. Consciously or unconsciously his friend knew his control was slipping, it never really matter which, all that mattered was that it was.

They were driving along the high street now, the crowds meandering along the well worn street to their destination, unaware of the beast that stalked them. Pulling into the hospital, he watched as an old man hobbled through the automatic doors, his defeated posture and prominent limp telling more about the city than any brochure could. Following, he heard the nonsensical babble that was associated with hospital waiting rooms. In one corner a woman in her mid twenties was shrieking at her husband who had a gash down his cheek. Rossi never needed to be a profiler to tell it was a domestic disturbance. Moving over to the reception desk he saw the receptionist. Her black hair was tied back in a sloppy ponytail and she tapped away at the computer keys with an expression that said she'd rather be anywhere than there. Attracting her attention, Rossi saw her eyes light up when she took in Aaron.

"Oh your back," she said in a voice that was clearly meant to be seductive, "Miss me did you?"

Rossi mentally rolled his eyes, partly amused at how Aaron would negotiated this minefield.

"We're here to see Doctor Fielding," said Aaron stiffly, acting as if he hadn't heard her.

"And here was lil' old me getting my hopes up," she pouted, grabbing the phone and telling Fielding of their arrival, "He said to go right up."

"Thank you," replied Aaron politely.

"If you need anything feel free to ask me," purred the receptionist, still not giving up.

Walking away, Rossi turned his head slightly as if interested in one of the many posters that littered the walls. Sure enough the receptionist's eyes were firmly glued to Aaron's ass and, judging by the forced walk, Aaron was aware of this and feeling less than comfortable about it.

Entering the lift, Aaron mechanically pressed the correct floor number and Rossi leaned against the hand rail nonchalantly. Aaron was still tense, as if expecting an attack at any minute. His shoulders were slightly, oh so slightly, hunched indicating defensiveness, and Rossi was now more than certain that the man was on a mission and he would be damned if anyone got in his way.

Doctor Fielding was waiting for them when they exited the lift. His bald patch gleamed with sweat in the artificial light and his face was lined with worry making him appear older than his years. The man walked quickly, his body full of nervous energy and feeling the need to do something. Rossi knew the signs, he had seen them often enough in his long career.

His office was like any other, files littered his desk and Rossi spotted the now familiar face of Gavin Whitman. Looking at his unruly dark brown hair and kindly expression Rossi wondered if this really was the killer, his features too open to suggest anything. He reminded himself that this man was potentially suffering from antisocial personality disorder and would be able to act to suit his needs, being dropped from the program would be the exact kind of stressor to make this man resort to violence.

"Gavin was a remarkably gifted pupil, however his performance began to decline. I think perhaps the others were, shall we say, a little negligent to him. He is a rather odd fellow, he would lash out at anyone who went above him, he made a nurse cry once when she couldn't find the vein when placing an IV. However I hadn't thought he was capable of murder until this came up," said Fielding, tripping over his words a little towards the end.

"That is quite understandable Doctor, he would be a master at hiding his condition unless something pushed him over the edge," said Aaron, sitting in the chair in front of Fielding's desk. Rossi opted to stand behind his supervisor.

"Does he have any friends at all that we can talk to?" asked Rossi, not feeling much hope about this angle.

"I'm afraid I don't know. He kept himself to himself a lot," replied Fielding apologetically.

"Were the stitches on the bodies the same as the ones he performed here?" asked Aaron.

"I cannot say, but judging by the angle of the stitches he would have to have been left handed which Gavin is," said Fielding.

"Thank you Doctor and I stand by what I said on the phone. If it is indeed Gavin then he would have ended up this way regardless," said Aaron, standing up signalling the meeting was over.

"No thank you Agent Hotchner, I hope you catch whoever is responsible," said Fielding, showing them out of his office.

"What do you think?" asked Rossi, as they walked back down the corridor.

"I think he's telling the truth. We'll need to see what Garcia's uncovered but I'm pretty sure it's he's out unsub," answered Aaron.

* * *

"What have you got?" asked Aaron, finding the rest of the team in the disused office.

"Well he would have to have a ruse of some kind and have followed these women to get the right ones," said Prentiss.

"Like Ted Bundy perhaps using crutches and asking for aid," said Reid.

"So he's logical and a stalker," interjected Rossi.

"Exactly, however to do this he would have to be charming and very convincing. Millicent Hope was an attorney there is no way she would have fallen for some half baked attempt," said Morgan. Any response to this was drowned out as then Aaron's phone rang, breaking the mood that had descended on the scene.

"Garcia what do you have?" he asked, placing it on loudspeaker in the centre of the desk.

_"It was those veterans he visited because he was doing a history essay on life in the concentration camps. A few of the veterans had been there at Dachau and one at Auschwitz."_

"What was the one at Auschwitz name?" asked Aaron.

_"Sergei Abramovich, he was with the 322nd Rifle Division in the Red Army. He emigrated here shortly after the Cold War in 1992."_

"Where does Whitman live and what is the house like?" asked Aaron, feeling more and more certain that this was their unsub.

_"Number 42 Penton Drive, it's an old fashioned house that his parents bought him and..."_

"What is it?"

_"It has a basement, sir."_

"Thank you Garcia," said Aaron, putting his phone away.

"Right we need to get round to Whitman's place," said Morgan, his muscles flexing slightly at the thought of catching this man.

"Wilson and I can take you, it isn't far from here," offered Monroe.

"Prentiss, Rossi with me and Monroe. Reid, Morgan and JJ you follow us with Wilson," ordered Aaron, watching as everyone filed out. Eyeing Rossi's retreating form he sighed. He knew that the older profiler was just letting him stew, trying to force him to confess that he wasn't alright, he had used it on countless suspects after all. That said it never made it any less infuriating that it was directed at him. Trying not to let it get to him, Aaron switched off the lights and followed his team, the need to save these women was more important than himself right now.

* * *

_Cleaning his tools he hummed a jaunty tune that he had picked up from some woman at the store. Looking at his guest he saw her eyes were frozen in terror as she clawed at the restraints, each tug weaker than the last. Her twin had been no fun, the muffled shrieks had distracted him, he had been a little sloppy. Brushing his hands over her golden hair he felt her tremble beneath him. He wouldn't do that to her though, she would be his masterpiece. _

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for the feedback! I hope this chapter was okay, I typed it up over a few days as the school work has really been picking up and I'm pretty frazzled!_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds._

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes._

_Please Review!_


	10. Chapter 10

Whitman lived on the more dilapidated side of the city. Shops had wooden planks over their windows and graffiti coated the buildings like a second skin, the luminous colour adding no life to the area. The pavements were cracked, dirt clogging the gashes and causing weeds to sprout, infiltrating the concrete and creating yet more disrepair. It was almost night and the clouds overhead had darkened, the air crackled with electricity promising a storm. The three agents sat in the SUV, Monroe weaving through traffic, the sirens blaring the shrill and yet comforting sound increasing the tension in the car. Adrenaline pumped through Aaron's system, his hand itching to touch his gun just so he could be ready. If those women died because he wasn't ready he wouldn't forgive himself. Rossi and Prentiss sat behind him and he saw from their demeanour that they were thinking the same thing. Monroe swore suddenly and veered to the right, mounting the pavement in the process to overtake a lorry that hadn't given them way. No pedestrians were about and they managed to get in front of the infernal vehicle, the engine roaring as Monroe sped on. Time was of the essence, they all knew this and as they drew closer the atmosphere became more and more charged.

"Right it's the next street," said Monroe, his voice slicing through the tension that had steadily been brewing.

"Everyone ready?" asked Aaron, knowing he never needed to ask this.

"Yes," came Rossi and Prentiss's automatic response.

Breaking suddenly, they jolted forward before coming to a halt. Whitman's house was made of terracotta bricks, some chipped in places showing the sandy interior. The curtains were drawn but illuminated. He was home.

Wilson sped round the corner, coming to a stop behind them. Climbing out the SUV Aaron walked over to the rest of his team.

"He's home, we know that he has the women in there so we should keep it quiet. If he notices our presence then he might kill them if they are not dead already," that settled like a lead weight in Aaron's stomach, "Morgan I want you to head with me, Rossi, Prentiss watch our backs. Reid, JJ I want you to stay here in case he tries to make a run for it."

"What about us?" asked Monroe, pointing to himself and his deputy.

"Stay with Reid and JJ, we need as many eyes on this as possible. There's no knowing what he'll do once he's trapped" said Aaron.

Strapping on their Kevlar vests, Aaron and Morgan made their way up the garden path with Prentiss and Rossi following them. The grass was overgrown and littered with weeds, a cracked pot sat on the front step containing dying daffodils, the petals wrinkled with lack of water. Checking the door, Aaron nodded and Morgan kicked it in, catching it before it crashed into the wall alerting Whitman even more of their arrival.

The first thing Aaron noticed was the smell. It was cloying and sickly sweet, clouding his senses but weaving an undertone of decay beneath the aroma. It fit with his profile, trying to cover up the smell of his victims to make the house 'cleaner' in his mind. Moving silently down the hall, Aaron moved quickly in what appeared to be the lounge, clothes piled neatly in the corner and magazines arranged on the coffee table neatly. It was like a showroom home, everything glistened and sparkled in the light emanating from the ceiling lamp. Seeing no one, Aaron lowered his gun and said "clear" into his microphone before heading back out into the hall. Morgan was further ahead, having cleared the other rooms along with Prentiss and Rossi. He was pointing to the last door. The door to the basement. It opened silently, the hinges giving the signs of having been newly oiled. Judging from the pale gold there was a light on down below. Moving first, Aaron put his foot on the first step, mentally begging it not to creak. Morgan followed him as did Rossi, Prentiss staying up there to act as a guard.

Aaron could see him now. Whitman was carving into Danielle's flesh his arms covered in blood his sleeves having been rolled up to prevent contamination. Her sleeping face was a mask of horror and pain as she writhed against the cold slab having blacked out from the pain. Her chest cavity was open, he could see her heart pumping and her lungs moving rapidly as even in her sleep she felt the pain. Her organs glistened in the light and Aaron saw Whitman reach in and caress one of her ribs, dissecting her slowly and leaving the vital organs for last. Over in the corner Aaron saw another slab, this one had a white sheet over it with a pale hand peeking out and hanging limply over it. Sickened, Aaron, although aware of the scalpel in Whitman's hand descended some more, putting him in the view of the unsub.

Whitman froze as he registered Aaron was there, his scalpel hovering centimetres above her pulsing heart.

"Put it down Whitman, your game is over," said Aaron, drawing Whitman's attention to him. His brown eyes were glazed over and shining with fascination, however underneath Aaron caught a glimpse of the insanity.

"What if I don't want it to end?" he asked, his voice soft as he spoke quietly.

"Tough," replied Morgan, coming next to Aaron.

"We know you were dropped from the surgical program and for that we are sorry, however this will do nothing to help you get back there," said Aaron calmly, a sharp contrast to the turbulent emotions he felt whirling inside him.

"Nothing? What do you mean_ nothing_?," Whitman's voice was now tinged with anger and getting more and more maniacal, "My noble work will show them all how great I am! How great I could have been if they hadn't abandoned me!"

"Why Mengele?" asked Rossi suddenly.

"He was brilliant, imagine what he could have discovered if he had had more time! People shy away from what he did, they are weak and don't recognise a true genius when they see one," answered Whitman, his voice taking on a devout tone akin to that of a worshipper, so far gone in his delusion. Danielle gave a small whimper as she slowly came back to consciousness, her mind too pain ridden to form coherent thoughts.

"He never had more time because he was inhumane, now for the last time put the scalpel down," said Morgan.

"No, no, no I have to finish," said Whitman angrily, more to himself than the agents. Plunging the scalpel down, he imbedded it in Danielle's heart drawing a scream from the women, fully conscious now as she grappled with the restraints. Gunfire filled the room as he was taken down in a hail of bullets, his blood mixing with Danielle's as he lay bleeding on the floor, dying the stainless floor red.

Running down, Aaron ignored him, stepping over Whitman's twitching body and releasing Danielle. Her body was limp, energy draining out of it as her blue eyes dimmed quickly.

"No, no, no," babbled Aaron, holding the dying women in his arms, burying his hands in her chest cavity and pumping her heart manually. His hands were coated with blood as more and more spurted from the wound. He had to save her, he had to save her! Feeling a hand on his shoulder he barely registered Rossi telling him it was over, he never noticed Prentiss coming down the stairs and checking Whitman's vitals nor Morgan punching the wall angrily. All he noticed was her face as it slowly went lax and the hollow feeling filling his chest. He had failed her.

* * *

_A/N: Thank you for the feedback! This is the penultimate chapter, I'll try and have the other one up tonight as well. I felt like this was a good place to end this chapter, I know it's short but a lot happens._

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds._

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter._

_Please Review!_


	11. Chapter 11

Rossi walked over to his Unit Chief. Aaron appeared not to notice his presence and, reaching out, he touched his shoulder. Unlike the other times he had done this the man never tensed, he instead gazed into her rapidly fading eyes, entranced by them as she was slowly taken into the arms of Dis and carried away to his eternal kingdom. Morgan cursed and punched the wall, drawing his bruised knuckles to his chest and now swearing in earnest. Prentiss knelt down and check Whitman's life signs, remaining professional in an environment that even the most seasoned couldn't.

Ignoring them, Rossi crossed to the other side of the slab, trying to ignore the smell the body was giving off. It truly was revolting but now he was more focused on Aaron. Looking into the dark eyes he saw the turmoil that he hadn't seen since Morgan pulled him from Foyet's bloody corpse. They were the eyes of a man staring into the gulf and incredibly close to tipping over the edge. Putting both his hands on the younger man's shoulders he forced him to meet his eyes.

"We need to leave," said Rossi gently.

"I, I can't leave her," Aaron whispered, his eyes being drawn back to Danielle's body.

"She's dead Aaron, there's nothing you can do," replied Rossi quietly. At this Aaron seemed to cave in on himself, losing the strength that he was so famed for. Catching him, Rossi led his friend out of the basement, leaving Morgan and Prentiss to deal with the crime scene. Technically they were all meant to stay, that way their testimony would be more reliable but Rossi had never been one for following protocol. They passed Monroe, the police chief looking at him, understanding swirling in his brown eyes as he let them pass silently, giving Rossi the keys to the SUV in the process. Wilson was just heading into the house and rushed past them, too quick to take in the sight of the two agents hobbling along.

Making their way down the garden path, Aaron stumbled a little on the weeds protruding out the old stone and they nearly went face first into the fence. Regaining their balance, Aaron seemed to find some strength and walked out of the garden, unsupported by Rossi. Slowly, Rossi saw him walk in a daze towards their SUV, opening the passenger door and sliding in. He leaned back and Rossi saw a myriad of emotions play over his features: despair, frustration, anger. Rossi had a feeling that the last one was not directed at the unsub and he felt worry gnaw at his intestines. Entering through the passenger side, Rossi buckled himself in and started the engine, the deep growl doing nothing to awaken Aaron and free him from his mind.

They drove in silence, Rossi pondering what to do and Aaron trapped in his own personal hell. The atmosphere was however comfortable despite the inner battles going on. Both were used to each others company, and Aaron had no qualms showing weakness in front of him as Rossi had been his mentor and therefore considered a close friend. Absently Rossi wondered how Gideon would fare in this situation. He had never been as close to Aaron as he himself was. He had heard stories that Gideon much preferred to work on his own, often ignoring Aaron's orders or going against them. The stories varied and he wasn't sure what was true and what was just typical office rumour. However he did know that Gideon hated teamwork, feeling that they more hindered than helped him and therefore he would have been abrasive at least. This would not have led to a good camaraderie and so he highly doubted Aaron would have let Gideon see him like this. Then again, looking at the younger profiler, he wasn't entirely sure Aaron could control his reaction, but still it was good that it was him and not the others.

Pulling into their hotel, Rossi turned off the engine, sitting for a moment before getting out of the vehicle. Opening Aaron's door, he watched his friend numbly climb out and walk towards the entrance. Following him, Rossi smiled at the receptionist before catching up with his Unit Chief. Aaron was trying to put his card key into the slot but seemed to be having a bit of trouble. Taking it from him, Rossi inserted it, waiting for the light to flash green. Opening the door he led Aaron inside and shut it softly behind him.

Safely in the confines of the room, the younger man seemed to crumble, sliding down the wall and gasping. Loosening his collar, he undid the buttons just as a sob tore itself from his chest, clawing up his throat and Rossi felt like he'd been punched in the gut. This wasn't the Aaron Hotchner he knew, this was Aaron, the man behind the agent, the one who hadn't been allowed to grieve for Hailey, trapped behind the stoic mask that had became his prison. Kneeling down, he took the man in his arms, holding him together as he lost it. He knew that this was his grief for his wife as well as the woman he had come to identify her in. Rubbing soothing circles on his back Rossi wondered how much grief it was possible to carry around and still stay sane.

* * *

Aaron wasn't sure how he had came to be in the hotel room sobbing on Rossi's shoulder. All he remembered was her eyes, the same eyes staring blankly up at him. It felt as if he had lost something, something he had never noticed was absent and then it had hit him.

He had lost Hailey.

She truly was gone and, although the woman looked like her, she wasn't the woman he fell in love with. Steadying his breathing, he felt Rossi pull away and look in in the eyes. God he must look like a mess. Rossi had noticed this thought passing through his head has he handed him a tissue. Wiping his face, Aaron wondered when the last time he had cried was. He knew he had cried when Hailey had died but that had been more shock than anything else. No, the last time had been when his father had hit him for getting a C in geography, the feeling of failure and disappointment had caused the teenage Aaron to cry on his mother's shoulder, much like he was now with Rossi.

"Thanks," he mumbled, his voice gravelly.

"No problem," said Rossi simply, as if this happened everyday, "Now would you care to tell me why you are in this state?"

"I, I thought I could save her, Hailey I mean, I thought that maybe by saving this woman she would still be alive in a way," confessed Aaron, the words pouring out quickly, sounding ridiculous to him now.

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Rossi, concern shining in his voice.

"Because I never realised it. I had convinced myself I was fine, that I had gotten over what had happened. Subconsciously I knew this case was too soon but I pushed myself, I never wanted to admit I was weak," whispered Aaron, twisting the tissue in his hands.

"Grieving isn't weak Aaron, it's natural. Hell when my first wife left me I was a wreck!" admitted Rossi, laying a hand on Aaron's shoulder.

"When I saw Danielle there it felt like it was happening all over again," said Aaron quietly.

"That's not surprising, this case forced you to face what your mind was trying to protect you from. The only question now is whether you can move on," said Rossi, looking him in the eye.

"I, I don't know," confessed Aaron, feeling like a schoolboy that had given the wrong answer.

"Then we'll have to help you," replied Rossi firmly, helping Aaron stand up. Seeing Rossi's hands were covered in blood, Aaron looked down at his own, seeing for the first time that the congealed fluid had saturated his clothing and dyed his hands a burgundy red.

"Go and clean up, I'll be here when you get back," said Rossi.

Leaving the older profiler in the bedroom, Aaron made for the bathroom, closing the door behind him and discarding his clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor. Turning on the hot spray of the shower, he stepped under it, watching the red blood stream from his body and down the plug hole. He knew it would take time, he would probably have to take some leave but the most important thing was that he'd taken the first step. For the first time in what felt like years, Aaron Hotchner opened his eyes.

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_'Acceptance of what has happened is the first step to overcoming the consequences of any misfortune.__' _  
_~William James_

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_A/N: Okay that's it! The end of my first CM fic - technically it is my first as I started it before my two one-shots... Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and alerts, they've made writing this all the more fun as it isn't just me enjoying it! I hope the ending was satisfactory, I've never really written angsty/hurt comfort to this extent before! However thank you for reading this, I hope you enjoyed it. I'll admit some parts of the case did creep me out - especially having to research the Holocaust - but I think it was worth it in the end - and I hope you do too!_

_DISCLAIMER: I do not own Criminal Minds!_

_I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter._

_Please review!_


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